


Performance Art

by QuickLikeLight



Series: Scott McCall Appreciation Collection [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Art School, Body Paint, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nude Modeling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scott Delgado
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 21:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2596856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you want to see <i>me</i>, you’re not going to get any good pictures,” Stiles grumbled, a little scowl furrowing his forehead. </p><p>“Don’t say that,” Scott scolded softly, pushing Stiles’ hair back from his face. “Wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think you looked good. Amazing. Perfect.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Performance Art

**Author's Note:**

> This is another cleaned up Scott McCall appreciation ficlet, this time starring Shameless Latino Scott Delgado and his bestie. The original prompt was Scott/Stiles, Art School AU. 
> 
> Many thanks to [Bfab](http://bfab11.tumblr.com) and [Maya](http://whatthehalefire.tumblr.com) for the super-quick beta and words of encouragement. Love you ladies! <3

"Are you… uh… completely sure this is how you want me?" Stiles flushed brilliant pink from the bottom of his bare chest up to the high jut of his cheekbones. He sprawled grandly over a dropcloth that Scott had stayed up all night painting, gold and silver paint still slightly wet against his bare ass and shoulder blades. It was uncomfortable. There was no way around it, really. It had been uncomfortable when Scott had suggested it. It had been uncomfortable getting undressed in the dim light of the studio. It was uncomfortable laying there, paint drying tight on his bare skin.

Still, he guessed, Scott was worth some discomfort. Okay, a lot of discomfort.

College was really nothing like Stiles had expected it to be. Instead of raging parties and endless tailgating, he'd walked into his dorm room the first day to find his brand new roommate, an adorable guy with surfer hair and dark, warm skin and a smile like the sun, _painting_. _On the wall_.

"I hope you don't, uh, mind?" he'd asked, paint smeared along one sun-kissed cheek. "I just want to get a head start.” Stiles had gestured mutely at the once-whitewashed plaster now covered in intricate red and gold designs, and he had fallen all over himself to say, “No, no no, I asked our RA, Laura? She said it was okay. I just have to paint over it later. Don’t worry though! I just, um… thought it’d be nice to liven things up a bit. Do you not like the colors? I can change the colors. What’s your favorite color? I like pretty much all of them, but especially red. I feel like it’s really energizing, you know?”

“Uh… yeah?” Stiles blinked.

“Sorry! Sorry. I’m Scott Delgado. Your new roommate?”

Stiles might have fallen a little bit in love that very day. Now, three years of being roommates and best friends, going home together for holidays and signing up for as many of the same classes as they could, he had definitely fallen the rest of the way.

"Arch up for me?" Scott smiled, camera blocking his face. Stiles tried to smile back, he did, but this - being naked in front of his best friend, sprawled out and debauched, looking like they had been - like _Scott_ had been -

"Amazing. God, you’re gorgeous dude. This is great." The sound of the shutter clicking filled Stiles’ ears as he tried to hold his position, moved where Scott told him to, wet paint and canvas caressing his skin.

It wasn’t like Scott didn’t know Stiles was into guys. He’d had a boyfriend or five since college started, and girlfriends too. They’d both listened to the early babbling of young love,  gone on double dates and bought break-up ice cream, showed up as each other’s plus ones to events they couldn’t be bothered to find dates for. It wasn’t a surprise when Scott had told him the year before that maybe he had a crush on Isaac, the sculpture major with the curly hair. Isaac dumping him for Cora Hale sort of was, but then, there was no understanding some people.

Stiles didn’t get why everyone in the world wouldn’t want Scott. Which was why, when Scott had begged him to do this piece, he’d said yes. Even though it was -

Well.

“You look so good,” the artist sighed softly. He swiped his fingers against Stiles’ stomach, dragging gold paint across his pale skin.

“Shit, Scott, cold!” Stiles jumped, trying not to move out of the frame.

“That’s it, smile for me. Let me see _you_.” Scott just moved with him, clicking the shutter even when he wasn’t looking through the eyepiece.

“If you want to see _me_ , you’re not going to get any good pictures,” Stiles grumbled, a little scowl furrowing his forehead.

“Don’t say that,” Scott scolded softly, pushing Stiles’ hair back from his face. “Wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think you looked good. Amazing. Perfect.”

“Stop it,” Stiles flushed, skin heating under Scott’s gaze, his praise. Despite his discomfort, his cock twitched slightly, chubbing up between his legs.

“Yeah, that’s it, man. Can you… do you mind, just - your hand?” Scott looked from his paint-splattered hands to his groin, nodding gently as Stiles let one palm skate down his stomach. “That’s it. Touch yourself for me. Just a little. Just relax. Let it feel good.”

Scott’s voice saying those words was the least fair thing that had ever happened to him. Stiles bit his lip, one hand creeping carefully down, ready to stop the instant Scott changed his mind. The studio vibrated with tension, sparking with something heavy and new, and Stiles - well, Stiles had never been good at denying himself. It was so easy to wrap one hand around his rapidly hardening cock, to stroke himself while watching the delicious play of soft, yellow light on Scott’s face. His hand moved slowly, almost casually, despite the arousal burning through him.

"Want to see you," Scott cooed, snapping one shot after the other. "Show me? What do you look like after…?"

"After." Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"You know." It was Scott’s turn to blush. His paint-stained jeans dragged on the canvas as he crawled across to run a tentative hand over Stiles’ hipbone, up his chest. " _After_."

"I don’t-" Stiles stopped, propped himself up on one elbow. "I’d have to show you the whole shebang. I can’t just come up with an afterglow out of nowhere, man."

"That’s… uh, fine," Scott stumbled, falling back on his ass next to Stiles’ sprawled form. “I don’t mind. _At all_.”

“Are you sure?”

Scott’s eyes roamed over his body, drinking up the sight of him broken down and vulnerable. He let the camera sink in his hands, baring bright eyes and wet lips, soft, deep breaths. “Yeah. Yeah, I - um. If you want to show me… I want to see.”

Stiles groaned, let his head tip back and his hand speed up. “Is this about your pictures? Because if it is, that’s fine but -”

“Not… really?” Scott said, pinked cheeks and fluttering hands. “It could be? But, it could also be… something else. If you want.”

“I want.” Stiles’ voice was so much rougher than it seemed like it should be. Scott wasn’t even touching him, just hovering close by and watching, avid. “So much. Want you.”

“Me too,” Scott grinned. “Want you too. Show me? Want to see the way you want me.”

Stiles groaned, bringing one hand to his mouth and biting down on the only patch of clean skin he could find.

"Can I-" Scott started, setting his camera down.

Stiles nodded abruptly, hand squeezing tightly at the base of his cock. “Please, please just - touch me, Scott, _fuck_ -”

In an instant, Scott’s hands were on him, one pulling his head up by the nape of his neck, the other wrapping around his own hand on his cock. His eyes were warm and softly crinkled, years of laughter etched in their edges, and he smiled as he pressed his mouth against Stiles’. Stiles gripped desperately at Scott’s shoulder, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss. Scott stroked easily with him, guiding Stiles’ hand over his skin in a sloppy rhythm that drove him crazy, made his blood sing.

"That’s it, babe," Scott crooned against his lips, kissing and biting. "So hot, so good for me, come on. Come for me, _bello_. Let me see you come."

Stiles’ orgasm rocked through him like a tidal wave, pushing his hips up, up into his hand where his fingers were twined with Scott’s. He cried out, and Scott muffled the sound of his own name with his mouth. “Shhhhh, good boy,” Scott grinned, kissing and licking at his lips so gently. “What a good boy for me. _Precioso_. Can’t be too loud, though. Someone might come looking.”

Stiles shuddered, relaxed and lazy with the come down, and words fell out of his mouth without a thought. “Can I look while you come?”

"I still have an art piece to finish here," Scott laughed. Stiles’ eyebrows shot up and Scott peeled off his shirt, using it to wipe the come from Stiles’ belly and hand. "Don’t worry, though. I’m pretty sure this is going to be an ongoing project."

 

_Twelve Weeks Later_

Scott held his hand as they walked slowly through the exhibit. One of Isaac’s sculptures, a pair of ceramic busts obviously modeled after Cora and Allison, sat in the middle of the hall in a spot of honor, but that wasn’t what they were there to see. Instead, Scott pulled him toward the back of the exhibition space. They passed paintings and sculptures, photographs and woven fabrics. There was something made of soda cans and possibly used condoms that Stiles was both intensely interested in, and didn’t want to look too hard at.

“So what’s the big surprise?” he asked, just as they rounded the corner into the last exhibit space.  

“This,” Scott pointed, smiling. A set of three photos hung mounted on a gold and silver canvas background. The first depicted the curve of a hip that Stiles knew well, knobby hipbone jutting out of soft, pale skin, dotted with moles. The second, the long expanse of Stiles’ thigh, smeared with paint and tensed tight. The final photo was simple: Scott’s hand resting on Stiles’ stomach, painted handprint smearing with his caress.

“You finished them,” Stiles blinked. His body looked… well, beautiful. Beautiful in the way that Scott saw it, in the way that Scott made things beautiful himself.

“If you don’t like them, I can pull them from the exhibit,” Scott chewed his lip, uncertain.

“No, no, don’t.” Stiles turned and wrapped his arms around the artist’s shoulders, pulling him in. “They’re great, Scott. They’re gorgeous.”

“That’s just you,” Scott laughed, happy and embarrassed all at once. Stiles shook his head, but he knew better than to argue. A little plaque off to the side caught his eye, and he pulled Scott over to read it with him.

_Artist: Scott Delgado_

_Medium: Mixed; Photography, Acrylic on Canvas_

_Title:_ De Mi Corazón

 

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr.](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com)  
> 


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